A Missing Horse
by fanged geranium
Summary: A series of connected ficlets about some of the differences between the bookverse and the movieverse. Chapter 7: An Extra Passenger. Complete.
1. A Missing Horse

"Someone," said Glorfindel, addressing the assembled company of Imladris's inhabitants, "has stolen my horse, and you will all stay right here until one of you owns up." Elrond, the ruler of Imladris and technically Glorfindel's boss, coughed loudly. "Oh, sorry Elrond, I didn't mean to include you." Glorfindel sat down on a nearby step, as Elrond departed, and prepared for a long wait.

Eventually one of the stable-elves cracked under Glorfindel's glare. "I know who took Asfaloth," she said in a scarcely audible voice.

"Well?" snapped Glorfindel, "Who was it then?"

"She made me promise not to tell you."

"I can assure you it will be much worse if you don't tell me. I'll have you thrown into the dungeons and banished from Rivendell!"

Erestor tried to say at that Imladris didn't have any dungeons, but stopped when Glorfindel turned to stare at him instead and contented himself with pointing out that it would be difficult to carry out the two punishments simultaneously.

"Just tell him who did it and we can all go to lunch," said Lindir, who had missed breakfast that morning.

"Very well, it was Arwen. She heard Elrond ordering you to ride out to find for Estel, so naturally she decided to go instead. After all she is betrothed to him."

"Estel! I should have known. I suppose she didn't eavesdrop for long enough to hear about the four halflings and nine ringwraiths? Elrond won't be happy about this." Erestor looked rather worried, realising that Elrond would be impossible to deal with until his daughter returned.

"But why," complained Glorfindel, "did she have to take _my_ horse?"


	2. A Missing Sword

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work._

**Chapter 2**

**A Missing Sword**

While the citizens of Imladris were outside in the courtyard, Elrond walked aimlessly along the corridors of the Last Homely House, annoyed that Glorfindel was delaying lunch with his horse-stealing inquiry. He wandered into the armoury and reached out to pick up his favourite weapon: a sword that had once belonged to his grandmother, Idril, but it wasn't there.

He waved his hand back and forth through the empty space where the sword should have been, but the combined evidence of his hand and his eyes was overwhelming. It was definitely gone. Elrond pondered for a few moments, trying to remember if he might have lent it to someone in the century or so since he had last used it, but he was certain that he hadn't, so he set off for the forge, in case one of the blacksmiths was using it for a model.

After a swift look around the smithy, Elrond walked up to Glorfindel, who was about to let all the other elves go to their belated meal. "My grandmother's sword is not in its proper place. Do you suppose that your horse-thief might also have taken a priceless seven-thousand-year-old blade?"

"I wouldn't put it past her!" Glorfindel bounded over to the hapless stable-elf and dragged her back to where Elrond stood. "Did she take Idril's sword?" he demanded.

"If you mean the fancy sword with the writing on it, then yes, she did."

"Ah, so you have already identified the culprit!" said Elrond.

"Indeed we have Elrond," replied Glorfindel, "but you must prepare yourself for some bad news."

"Don't prevaricate," snapped Elrond, "just tell me who it is!"

"As you wish. Your daughter is responsible for these thefts."

Elrond briefly considered shouting with rage, but quickly realised that it would be most undignified. He settled instead for a melancholy sigh. "I am at my wits' end with that child. First she insists that she is going to marry a human and become mortal, and now this. I don't think I can cope with any more of her outrageous behavior. I shall be forced to send her to Valinor to stay with her mother. If only I had never let Arwen go to Lothlorien; Galadriel is such a bad influence on her."


	3. A Missing Daughter

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. I've only got one more chapter of this story planned out at the moment, so if there are any book-to-movie changes I've missed that you'd like to see 'explained' in this fic's format, let me know. I'm sure there are quite a few differences that I forgot!

_Discliamer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work._

**A Missing Daughter**

Once Elrond had finished treating the injured hobbit - although he didn't quite see the point because by all accounts the silly creature had just sat there and let the ringwraith stab it through the shoulder, so it wasn't likely to survive for any length of time in the wilds of Middle-earth - he had to ensure that the proper arrangements were made for all his guests. The Last Homely House was big enough to accommodate a large group of travellers, but with the new arrivals from Mirkwood, Mithlond, the Lonely Mountain and Minas Tirith, it was getting very crowded. Elrond decided that his sons would have to sleep in the summer-house for the duration of the visitors' stay. It wouldn't do to put any of the guests in the drafty old wooden shed that Celebrían had insisted was the height of garden fashion two thousand years ago. He couldn't pull it down because Galadriel would find out and he would never hear the last of it.

With all these extra duties, it was several days before he could confront Arwen about her recent activities. She thought that Elrond had either not noticed her absence, or decided to let Glorfindel deal with her. Glorfindel was so overjoyed by the safe return of Asfaloth that he had let Arwen off with a glare and a warning never to take his horse again. She was not expecting to be told off, let alone punished, when Elrond called her into his study on the day Frodo woke up.

"Now you listen to me young lady," said Elrond, "I am very disappointed with you. Have you forgotten what happened to your mother when she travelled alone?"

"No Daddy," said Arwen meekly, "I'm very sorry."

"'Sorry' is not good enough. I shall give you a choice. You can either go to the Grey Havens when the other elves from Imladris leave, and sail west immediately, or you can stay here and make a banner for Estel, which he will need in the unlikely event that he should claim the kingship of Gondor. I will not make you decide at once; you may have until the party for Mithlond departs."

"Thank you Daddy," she said.

Arwen of course had no intention of going to her room and sewing a flag for Aragorn, and Elrond was well aware of it. He put a guard outside her door and another outside her window, assigned to keep watch for twenty-four hours a day until Arwen either travelled west to the Havens or east, with her entire family escorting her, to become Queen of Gondor and Arnor. Sure enough one of the guards caught her trying to go after the Fellowship of the Ring, armed this time with Elladan's sword and Elrohir's bow. For Elrond it was the last straw. He told her about all the terrible things that would happen to her if she stayed in Middle-earth, all of them true: the aging and dying of mortals, the suspicion and hatred mortals almost always feel towards the ever-young elves, and the abominable personal hygiene habits of all mortals without exception. This was too much even for Arwen and she agreed to leave for the Grey Havens with most of the other Rivendell elves.

Once she was gone Elrond breathed a sigh of relief. His dearly beloved but rather foolish daughter would be safe in the Undying Lands with her mother, and he could get back to worrying about the One Ring and the Dark Lord. The sound of a horse cantering up the paved road to the Last Homely House later the same day brought Elrond out of his not unpleasant reverie. He dashed out of the house, expecting to find a messenger with important news, but it was Arwen, and she was in a most abominable temper. She shouted almost incoherently at Elrond for several minutes before he understood that she was accusing him of not telling her that she and Aragorn would have a son.

Elrond wondered briefly who was responsible for this dreadful deficiency in his daughter's education. Surely Celebrían had taught her that one of the main reasons for getting married is to have children? Apparently not. He followed Arwen inside, and found her sitting in the library. She had somehow had enough time to change out of her riding clothes and was reading a book about the forging of Elvish weapons - the one written by Fëanor, he noticed. He didn't bother to tell her that Narsil was originally made by the Dwarves. He eventually agreed to her request that Narsil be re-forged, because she had obviously made her choice to become mortal by turning back from the road to the west. There was no point trying to prevent her from marrying Aragorn now.

The twins and some of Aragorn's disreputable cousins offered to go looking for the Fellowship, but once the broken blade was renewed Elrond decided to take the sword to his future son-in-law himself. He needed a holiday.


	4. A Missing Army

Thanks to Nienor Niniel, who suggested the theme for this chapter.

_Disclaimer: __This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work. _

**A Missing Army**

It was unusually quiet in Caras Galadhon, and Celeborn wondered where all the elves had gone. It was most unlike the elite archers of the Galadhrim to miss their morning training session. "Haldir!" he called, "Rúmil! Orophin! Where are you? You're late for drill!" There was no reply, so Celeborn strolled over to the archers' barracks, expecting to find them all still inebriated from the night before, as had happened occasionally in the past when they acquired some of the better Dorwinion vintages. He climbed up to the flet, but the barracks were empty. Soldiers, bows, arrows and kit were all gone. He contemplated the matter as he descended from the tree. Only one person could be responsible for this. "Galadriel!" he bellowed.

"Yes dear?" Galadriel sounded as serene as ever.

"Where is my army?" he demanded, "What have you done with it?"

"Your army, my love?" she laughed lightly, "Surely you mean _our_ army?"

"You know what I mean." Celeborn's tone became sullen.

"That is not the point, Celeborn. Lothlorien is _our_ realm, _We_ rule here and therefore it is _our_ army."

This was too much, even for Celeborn. "Oh, for the Valar's sake, just tell me where you sent them!"

"Don't you use that sort of language with me, young elf. I'll have you know I was associating with the Valar in the Blessed Realm while you were still in short trousers!"

Celeborn groaned. Sometimes he wondered if it had been wise to marry an older woman, or at least one who liked to remind him that she was more than a thousand years older than him. "Sorry Galadriel." He tried to sound contrite, but only succeeded in sounding petulant. "Please tell me where you sent _our_ army," he said, trying desperately to stop any thought that might upset his wife from crossing his mind.

It was no good. "How dare you think such dreadful things Celeborn?" She was off. He'd be lucky if he wasn't sent to his room without any breakfast. "I'm surprised at you! You should show more respect for your betters!"

Celeborn decided that if he was going to get into trouble, he might as well make a proper job of it. He drew himself up to his full height (nearly an inch taller than Galadriel) and said in his most scathing tone of voice, "If you do not tell me what you have done with _my_ army right now, I shall tell every elf in Middle-earth that you gave the dwarf some of your hair, and I'll tell them about you and the hobbits!"

Galadriel turned even paler than usual, "You wouldn't!" she cried.

"I believe I would. Just you watch me!"

"But..."

Celeborn smiled, sensing that he had, at last, after seven thousand years, won an argument with his wife. "Where are my archers?"

"It's a long story..."

"I'm sure it is. You can tell me over breakfast, if you like." He felt he could afford to be magnanimous.

Once they were seated at the breakfast table in their private apartment Galadriel began her tale. "I have been keeping an eye on our neighbours in Rohan," she said, "and their military situation is desperate. They have retreated to Helm's Deep, but most of the Rohirrim are still riding North with Éomer and Saruman's army will reach the stronghold before Gandalf can bring them back."

"I see," said Celeborn, wondering why Galadriel had not simply told him this before. He didn't approve of her mirror, but he was aware that it could be useful.

"I talked to Elrond about it and I persuaded him to send an army to help Théoden, but then I realised that Rivendell is too far away for anyone from there to reach Helm's Deep in time, so I sent our army instead."

"And you neglected to tell me?"

"Not exactly," she sounded almost apologetic, "I hoped they would get home before you noticed they were gone."

The situation was intolerable! His wife thought he would not notice the absence of his entire army, but worse than that the Dark Lord might launch an assault on Lothlórien from his stronghold at Dol Guldur at any moment, and Celeborn had no troops left to defend the Golden Wood. What did the silly Noldo think was going to happen then? Obviously associating with dwarves, humans and hobbits had addled her brain. "What will you do when the Dark Lord attacks Lothlórien? Shower him with mallorn leaves?" he asked, trying to keep the rage out of his voice.

"I didn't think of that," she said, looking rather downcast, but then she brightened again. "Elrond said some of the Dúnedain were going to Rohan to help Aragorn! I'll bring them here instead!"

Two or three dozen Dúnedain against the Nazgûl and an army of Orcs? Celeborn didn't think that any number of humans, Dúnedain or not, would be a substitute for his highly-trained crack troops, but he supposed they were better than no army at all. "Yes dear," he said.


	5. Some Missing Dúnedain

The idea for this chapter was suggested by Jay of Lagalen. It overlaps slightly with the idea from the last chapter.

Nienor Niniel: I'm afraid I can't tell you what Galadriel did with the hobbits, because then Celeborn won't be able to blackmail her with it in the future. As for Denethor, the only thing I can suggest is that it was _Sauron_ trying to run because he was possessing Denethor at the time.

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work. Nor is the author being paid to promote HoME._

**Some Missing Dúnedain**

Aragorn was getting impatient. Elrond had given him a note from Halbarad to say that the Dúnedain were on their way to him, accompanied by Elladan and Elrohir, but where were they? Time was getting short and he would have to take the Paths of the Dead soon, or he would not be in time to prevent the Corsairs of Umbar from sailing up the river.

Somewhere to the east of the mountains, possibly near Rohan, Halbarad was peering intently at a map of the western regions of Middle-earth. "Are you sure the map is the right way up?" asked Elrohir.

Halbarad glared at him. "Of course it's the right way up. I'm not stupid, you know."

The twins exchanged a sceptical glance. "Then perhaps it is a map from the second age?" suggested Elladan. "Father keeps all the old maps in his library."

"Now you are being stupid," said Halbarad, "Rohan wouldn't be marked on a map from 2885 of the Second Age."

"Oh, for Eru's sake, just let us look at the map," snapped Elrohir, "you must have got us lost, or we would have arrived days ago."

"We wouldn't be temporarily unaware of our exact location if we had travelled with your father!" retorted Halbarad. He held the map out to Elrohir, who snatched it from his hands, tearing one corner.

"I think we're here," said Elrohir, pointing at the area labelled 'West Emnet'

"No," said Elladan, "we can't be, or there would be mountains on two sides, rather than one."

"Let's just keep going," said Elrohir, "I'm sure we will find a landmark soon."

They continued in what they hoped was a south-easterly direction for several hours, until the twins noticed a woodland ahead. "Oh no," groaned Elrohir, "Grandfather will never let us live this down."

"We could pretend that we intended to come here all along," said Elladan.

"It wouldn't work," said Elrohir dolefully, not with Grandmother's mind-reading. She will get the truth out of one of the Dúnedain with a single look. If we turn around now we will get to Rohan and no one will be any the wiser."

"I fear that we must face the humiliation, brother," said Elladan, "we have very little food left and Grandmother is always only too pleased to give us more lembas than we could possibly eat."

"Will you two please tell me what you are talking about," said Halbarad, "you aren't making sense. What do your grandparents have to do with anything?"

"That woodland ahead of us happens to be Lothlórien," said Elladan, "where our grandparents happen to live."

Halbarad quickly found Lothlórien on his map, which he had grabbed back from Elrohir at the first opportunity. "Oh dear," he said, "we are lost."

There were no border guards to greet them at the edge of the Golden Wood, which was most unusual. Celeborn's paranoia about unauthorised Elves - particularly Noldor - Men, Dwarves and other even less welcome visitors entering his realm was legendary. It was useless to remind him that his great-uncle Thingol, who had taken even more extreme measures, was murdered by Dwarves that he had chosen to let in, not the Kinslayers when they invaded five years later. They proceeded to Caras Galadhon, where they found the city almost empty, and Celeborn running around madly. "Thank the Valar you are here!" he cried, "You must help me to defend Lothlórien!"

"I'm sorry, Grandfather, but we can't do that," said Elladan, "we have to go to Rohan to find Aragorn and go with him on the Paths of the Dead. Halbarad here had a message to say that Aragorn needs his kinsmen."

"It's always about Aragorn, isn't it?" said Celeborn, "Well I can assure you that Aragorn has absolutely no need for thirty Dúnedain and you two, because he has my ENTIRE ARMY!"

"What happened?" asked Elrohir, "Was there a mutiny?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Celeborn, "it was your grandmother's idea. She sent them to Helm's Deep, and none of them have come back, so I assume that they have gone with your precious Aragorn, wherever he is now."

"They might all be dead," observed Halbarad.

Celeborn gave him a frosty look, which he then turned on Galadriel as she appeared. "Elladan! Elrohir! My dear boys, how wonderful to see you!" said Galadriel. "I hope you don't mind me bringing you here, but your grandfather was quite adamant that he needed some replacement troops." she giggled, "You're hardly essential, of course. I can protect Lothlórien if it is attacked, but you know how your grandfather is if he doesn't get his own way."

"We will help, Grandfather," said Elladan, smiling at Celeborn, relieved that they had not, in fact, been lost at all. When Galadriel was involved strange things such as mistaking north for south tended to happen.

"I suppose we can stay," said Halbarad, "If you're quite sure Aragorn doesn't need us."

"What would you like us to do?" asked Elrohir.

"Given that there are so few of us," said Celeborn, "we shall have to confine our force to the city itself," he gathered up the twins and the Dúnedain, and wandered off to point out the strengths and weaknesses of the Caras Galadhon's defences. As Galadriel watched her husband stroll away, she polished Nenya absently on her sleeve. Perhaps she would let a few Orcs in, just to keep Celeborn amused.

At Dunharrow Aragorn realised that he had now run out of time, and he set out along the Paths of the Dead, accompanied only by Legolas and Gimli.


	6. A Missing Wizard

The idea for this chapter was suggested by both Nienor Niniel and Jedda.

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work._

**A Missing Wizard**

The spirit of Saruman raged uselessly around Isengard, completely ignored by the Ents, who were still trying to find a way to bring down Orthanc. Saruman found some small satisfaction in the indestructibility of his former home, and the Ents' futile attempts to crumble its stone to dust were occasionally enough to distract him from the bane of his bodiless existence: Grima Wormtongue, or more precisely, Grima Wormtongue's ghost. The late King Théoden's late former advisor was as irritating, snivelling and boot-licking (or would have been, if Saruman still had boots) in death as he had ever been in life, if not more so.

Saruman's chief occupation was planning revenge on the Elf who had killed Wormtongue. The Pits of Utumno were too good for that blond nuisance of a Wood-elf. He wondered if there was a way to send its soul out into the void with Morgoth. His secondary occupation was, of course, planning his vengeance against the Hobbits who had defeated him. If he had still had a body he would have gone to their Shire and made their lives an absolute misery, and diverted their entire pipe-weed crop for his personal use.

Saruman was recalled from his musings by the sight of a large group of creatures of various species approaching Isengard, among them several members of the White Council - or rather _his_ White Council, as he still thought of it - the damned Elf, and four Hobbits. After an extremely dull conversation with one of the Ents, the group prepared to leave again. As Isengard offered few possibilities for entertainment now all the Uruk-hai were gone, Saruman decided to follow them, and take any chance for vengeance that occurred. Unfortunately Grima went too.

When the group divided Saruman chose to follow the Hobbits, because the Elf was accompanied by a Dwarf, which was an adequate temporary punishment. He also realised that he had until the end of the world to deal with the Elf, whereas the Hobbits would be beyond his reach in only a few decades.

Once they reached the Shire, which seemed to take a remarkably long time, even for such small beings, Saruman saw that the countryside was as green and unspoiled as his spies and tobacco-purchasers had reported. In Saruman's opinion there was nothing quite so irritating in a landscape as woods and fields - it was all so inefficient. He longed to tear down the wooden huts that passed for mills in the Shire, and build them (well, make them build for themselves) some proper industrial-scale mills, and other factories, as his servants had used in Isengard. Grima's ghost agreed with him, as any genuinely sycophantic advisor would, and for a moment, although only a brief moment, Saruman was glad of the company.

The other Hobbits greeted the four who returned almost as outcasts, which gave Saruman some small pleasure. At least the destroyers of his city were not being hailed as heroes in their own land. One of the hobbits - not one of the Isengard ones, Saruman thought, but it was hard to tell when they all looked so alike - got married, and Saruman and Wormtongue amused themselves by drifting past and extinguishing the Hobbits' pipes during the festivities.

After a while, life (or death) in the Shire became too tedious for Saruman's taste. He ordered Wormtongue to stay and haunt the Brandybucks and the Tooks, and he set out to find the Elf. He had little success in Mirkwood, where he had thought that it lived, but he overheard a chance remark about a colony in Ithilien. Saruman followed the Anduin towards the sea, searching every woodland on its eastern bank, and eventually found his quarry. He settled in happily, listening to every conversation to discover his enemy's weakness, which turned out to be sea-gulls.

It was not too difficult for Saruman to persuade some gulls - with the promise of fish - to go and live in Ithilien. When the Elf left for Valinor, taking the Dwarf with him, satisfied that his work was done Saruman departed into the east, where he possessed an occasional susceptible mortal, and made them believe that they should attempt to conquer the world. It kept him busy for a few millennia.


	7. An Extra Passenger

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story.

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work._

**An Extra Passenger **

_**or**_

**A Missing Horse**

Celeborn, former Prince of Doriath and current Lord of the Golden Wood was feeling rather smug. His makeshift army of thirty Dúnedain and his grandsons had defeated the Nazgûl at Dol Guldur, with the loss of only one man, Halbarad, who Celeborn had disliked anyway. When Galadriel arrived at Dol Guldur all she had to do was sing to it, and it collapsed. Sauron was gone for good and his wife was free from the control of that damned ring of Celebrimbor's, although Celeborn would be the first to admit that it had been useful while Lothlórien was under attack. Unfortunately the mere thought of Celebrimbor was enough to deflate Celeborn's good humour and turn his thoughts away from his recent triumph. It was safe to say that Celebrimbor was Celeborn's least favourite elf.

Back in the First Age Celeborn had developed a grudging respect for Celebrimbor, who had rejected his father because of Curufin's evil deeds, and pledged himself to help heal Middle-earth. It was a noble purpose, but everyone, including Celebrimbor himself, seemed to have forgotten the curse on his family: 'To evil end shall all things turn that begin well'.

Things had indeed begun well in Eregion. Celeborn and Galadriel ruled their own realm, and their daughter Celebrían was born there, but all too soon Sauron had arrived, disguised in fair form, and bypassed all the proper immigration channels, where he would surely have met Galadriel and been recognised. Under Sauron's influence Celebrimbor made the rings of power, one of which he gave to Galadriel.

Celeborn's suspicions had first been aroused by the Elessar, which Celebrimbor had made in imitation of the stone created by Fëanor, his grandfather, that Galadriel had always desired. The original had been buried on the battlefield with Galadriel's cousin Fingon, its final owner, and that battlefield was now under the sea. Galadriel had assured him that the gift said nothing about Celebrimbor's feeling for her, but when he gave her the ring too, Celeborn confronted his wife and she admitted that Celebrimbor had been in love with her for more than two thousand years. Then Celebrimbor had been killed by Sauron, and it seemed as if the whole matter was resolved. Even if he was released from the Halls of Waiting it would be to the Blessed Realm, not Middle-earth, so an ocean would separate him from Celeborn - and Galadriel.

But now Galadriel was preparing to sail to Valinor with the other ring-bearer, leaving Celeborn behind in Middle-earth. He didn't entirely understand her decision. She had left Valinor seven thousand years ago because she wanted to rule a realm of her own - and she had that in Middle-earth - but her father was the king in the Blessed Realm, so she would no longer have her own land to rule as she wished. Celeborn had asked her why she was leaving, but she only said that she was weary of Middle-earth, because with the destruction of the One Ring the power of Nenya had failed. And there it was again: Celebrimbor's ring.

"Celeborn dear," called Galadriel, " I've finished packing. Will you came and help me with my suitcases?"

"I'll be right there, dear," replied Celeborn, setting off up the stairs to their flet. When he reached the platform he found Galadriel sitting among several dozen cases and other assorted bags.

"Celeborn, would you be so kind as to carry all these down to the ground for me?" said Galadriel, "I have to go down to the stream to fetch my mirror. It was a gift from my great-aunt, you know, and she would be most upset if I lost it."

"Certainly, my dear," said Celeborn, and he began to move the first case, which was heavier than it looked, towards the lift that they used for large items. He wondered briefly if she had managed to pack the Dwarf into it, or perhaps a couple of Hobbits. Celeborn was not fond of Dwarves, but he was prepared to tolerate that one for Galadriel's sake, since it was clearly no rival to him, unlike Celebrimbor, and as for the Hobbits... Well, the less said about them, the better, as far as Celeborn was concerned.

Thinking about Celebrimbor and Hobbits at the same time so agitated Celeborn that he threw the heavy case clean over the lift, and it plunged towards the ground, smashing on the forest floor and revealing that it contained Galadriel's sword collection. Celeborn ran back down the stairs, reaching the broken suitcase at the same time as his wife, who had come to see what had caused the noise.

"I'm sorry, Galadriel," he said, "I threw it a little too far. Would you like me to make you a new suitcase?"

"No dear," said Galadriel, "there is no need. I probably will not be allowed to take all these weapons into Valinor anyway. Father wouldn't like it. But I must tell you that I have just seen the most exciting news in my mirror!" Celeborn braced himself, expecting the worst. "Some of my cousins have been released from the Halls of Waiting!"

Galadriel had four cousins, seven half-cousins, one first cousin once removed and one half-first cousin once removed - Celebrimbor - who she might be referring to with this pronouncement. "Which ones?" Celeborn asked faintly.

"Don't worry dear," she said, "all the Kinslaying ones (1) are still safely shut away." That narrowed it down to three, or perhaps four, since Maeglin (2) had not killed any Elves personally.

"Why, Turgon (3) and Aredhel (4) of course!"

"That's nice dear," said Celeborn. "Celebrimbor is still in Mandos, I suppose?"

"Did I not tell you?" said Galadriel, "Celebrimbor was released almost a thousand years ago!"

"It must have slipped your mind," said Celeborn calmly, although he was shocked and horrified, but he was determined not to show it. He went upstairs and resumed moving suitcases, then secretly packed two of his own.

It was a long way from Lothlórien to the Grey Havens, and it seemed even further with all Galadriel's suitcases in tow in a convoy of carriages, but they eventually got there, and loaded all the cases into Círdan's ship. Elrond, Gandalf and the Hobbits arrived not much later with Gandalf's horse, Shadowfax.

Gandalf tried to persuade the horse to board the ship, but Celeborn decided this was going too far. It was a very small ship, and most of the hold was occupied by Galadriel's and Elrond's luggage (Elrond had brought at least four dozen cases), and Shadowfax was a very large horse. The amount of food it would require during the voyage did not bear thinking about, let alone the mess and the smell!

"If the horse goes on that ship," said Celeborn, "I shall stay here."

"That suits me," said Gandalf grumpily.

"Do you mean that you are coming to Valinor with me?" cried Galadriel.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you, dear?" said Celeborn.

"It must have slipped your mind," said Galadriel, and burst into tears.

Círdan was so affected by this display of emotion that he sniffed loudly, and promised to send Shadowfax along on the next available ship, which satisfied Gandalf, and Círdan led Shadowfax away to the stables.

The Hobbits finished saying farewell to their friends, having completely missed the discussion between the Elves and Gandalf, and Frodo, Bilbo, Elrond, Galadriel and Celeborn boarded the ship and sailed away into the west.

**The End**

Notes:

(1) The sons of Fëanor and Fingon, Galadriel's half-cousins and first cousin.

(2) Maeglin, son of Aredhel, a traitor, Galadriel's first cousin once removed..

(3) Turgon, King of Gondolin, Galadriel's first cousin.

(4) Aredhel, murdered by her husband, Galadriel's first cousin.

_Well, that's all for this story, folks. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
